Blue Eyed Package
by Someone Stole My Cookie
Summary: Watching the crowd part for her to continue down the walk of shame made him realize he couldn’t take anymore idiocy. He glanced at the M-Named blonde and cocked his head in a random direction. “Beat it, Marissa.” He commanded. Dasey. Derek-centric.


Blue-Eyed Package

_**Blue-Eyed Package**_

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**A/N: Just a Derek-centric one-shot. I'm not changing my mind about my multi-chaps. There's no way I'm ready to venture off with continuing them yet. However, I'm doing something new. At the end of each one-shot, I'm going to write whatever it was that inspired me. So that I can return to it, to see if it can help me in the future.**

He could—and _would_, mind you—go through girls like a line of first-string-hockey-players. All the while at it, he'd leave a mess of whimpering students to weep on the hallway floor in his wake.

Just like hockey.

But he was Derek Venturi. He had a reputation, and everyone knows what a huge responsibility it is to withhold one. Especially when bearing the status of 'Resident Bad-Boy'. He had to keep tough—however, linger in a carefree attitude, remain cool-headed—but at the same time have a raging temper, he had to shut down whoever crossed his path—yet, befriend all the school.

He had to control the student body, _as well _as the school staff, but come out of it smelling like roses. Everyone either loved him, fawned over him, or wanted to be him. No one _ever _challenged his standing in the ladder. Until his father had to marry Nora. Needless to say, she had some baggage.

The eleven year-old twerp was easy enough to deal with. In actuality, Derek thought she was a pretty cool kid. It was the other one; the older one. Lizzie's sister. She was…different. She didn't stand around and wait for him to dismiss her. Nor did she feel the need to be accepted by him. Heck, she _resented _him.

It was…a new feeling. Her hatred sparked something in him. In a long time, Derek was finally found someone to hold his interest. When he'd first met her, he'd thought the…strange emotion—not yet explored—was temporary. She had a pretty face. A lot of girls did. Alright, she had a killer body; he knew many of the type. She had a brain; the girl used her undeniable wit to no end; and _against _him, no less!

But he told himself that there were probably girls hiding behind books with the same quality. What he _couldn't _convince himself of, was the fact that there was another girl out there with _all _those qualities. In one blue-eyed package.

Casey fired him up, tore him down, challenged him, helped him when he really needed, was graceful, was incomprehensibly clumsy, was so different…but she could fit in so well. But he hated it when she did. She'd done it before, had become a cheerleader and turned into something completely different from herself.

He had only dreamt of pounding Max indefinitely into the ice.

He stayed away from her when the…feeling…only progressed in its intensity. Well, he tried to stay away. It was pure insanity to watch her get riled up about any problem he hadn't created. That's when he decided to kick his jackass-iness up a few notches. Or…a few hundred notches.

He just wanted her attention on him at all times, but when Noel had stepped up and calmed her down, Derek had become angry. And, though he hadn't intended on it, he'd made her laughingstock of high school. A vicious and unfair abuse of his power, but in his mind, it had to be done.

He was simply too selfish to give other guys the chance he could never have with her. At the same time, he was too arrogant to give up his perks—date wise—of being cruel and insensitive. In his sick and twisted logic, he could have every girl in the school without consequence, but nobody—absolutely _no_body—could glance her way.

There was currently a blonde perched on his knee—Mandy, or Mitchie, or Madeline. He wasn't sure. All that mattered was the fact that the only trait she had in common with Casey was that she looked good. Not as good, just good. She was brown-eyed, blonde, trampy, dumb as a post, and beckoned when he called.

Suddenly, there was a ruckus in the middle of the cafeteria. Students had already begun to gather around what Derek only guessed was a person. He'd become curious with the whispers arising from the crowd. He simply cleared his throat loudly and the sea of people parted as though he were Moses.

A brunette. She'd fallen; well, no, she'd wiped out. Books strewn and tray tipped upside-down. Her hands seemed to be quivering as she reached for her books. The whispers quickly turned into laughter, and cries of a name that always seemed to come back and haunt Derek.

"Way to go Klutzilla!" An unimportant person called from the depths of the throng. Derek frowned and stood from his seat; the bouncing blonde long forgotten. He knelt beside her and handed her the last book left on the hard and cold tiled-floor. She took it gratefully, but remained with her head bowed down.

"Thanks." It was sheepish and small. Not something he had grown accustomed to. Then again, she hadn't spoken to him lately. He nodded in recognition.

"Whatever." He muttered stupidly as he returned to being seated lazily. Watching the crowd part for her to continue down the walk of shame made him realize he couldn't take anymore idiocy. He glanced at the M-Named blonde and cocked his head in a random direction. "Beat it, Marissa." He commanded. Her eyes instantly watered.

"It's Millie." She said indignantly as she sulked back to her table of friends. Derek rolled his eyes and shrugged.

"Casey." He bellowed. She turned back without hesitation. He motioned to the now-vacant seat beside him. She smiled a barely-existing smile, but it was warm to him nonetheless. She sat down semi-awkwardly. He was sure people were staring and gaping and whispering and gossiping and creating whatever new scandal would entertain them, be he didn't care.

_He _was the king, as far as anyone was concerned. He was a selfish and moronic king, but royalty nevertheless. Casey was chewing on her lip as she glanced at the teenage-vultures warily.

"Derek—" Her voice was sweet and broken. Simply too much to resist. He placed his hand at the back of her neck and kissed her. It wasn't as he thought their first kiss would be. There was no blatant heat and passion of anger that usually aroused from the two of them. It was soft…and it left much to the imagination. But it was still perfect.

He was Derek Venturi, for heaven's sake, and what Derek wants, Derek gets.

**Was it okay? Probably not, but I thought it was best to try than to not. It's really short, but oh well.**

_**Inspiration: Do You Know (The Ping Pong Song), Enrique Iglesias.**_


End file.
